


Flamekeeper

by sirfeit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Torture, the city of light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6166867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirfeit/pseuds/sirfeit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>narrative drabble in first/second person for the clip released before episode 3x07</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flamekeeper

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in the half-hour span between when the first clip was released and I had to go to work. I really like writing in this particular narrative trope and I'm super into the great time when I was writing this and before I actually saw 3x07.
> 
> That was a good time.

I like to think we have developed something over the past few days. An understanding, if you will.

You will, of course. I’ve tied you to the chair in the Flamekeeper’s room, your hands bound in front of you so that I have full access to your back.

I’m not watching, but I’m listening to you when you wake up. Always that slow waking; never a startling. You begin yanking at your bonds again: given enough time conscious, you could probably escape from them.

All your attention shifts to me when I enter your field of view. You’re wary, but not broken. I appreciate that.

“Now that you’ve had time to think,” I say, although we both know you haven’t spent any time thinking. “Shall we continue our conversation about this?”

The sacred symbol. The sacred symbol I have been sworn to protect, above all else; the spirit of the Commander.

“I already told you everything I know the first ten times you asked me,” you say, exhausted, frustrated.

I feel the same way. “What you told me doesn’t make any sense. How does a Sky Person come to be in possession of our most holy symbol?” The Modern feels heavy in my mouth. I’ve tried speaking Trigdesleng to you, but you understand none of it.

“Holy?” you scoff. “It’s a _corporate logo_.”

Blasphemy. You hate being touched on the neck, so I take your throat and slam it back against the chair. Your eyes go wide; you try to lean back but it doesn’t work. Why don’t you understand?

“Wrong.” How can you possibly be so wrong? “This is the most sacred symbol of the Commander whom I have dedicated my life.” Get it right. “Now. How did you get it?”

Your words come out slowly; clipped. Your pulse flutters underneath my hand. “Again. Jaha gave it to me.” It would be so easy to kill you.

I pull off and step away. “This would be Chancellor Jaha.”

“Yes.” Your words are the long, low drawl I’ve come to expect. “He told me it was the key to the City of Light and if I swallowed it, the woman in red would take me there.”

This is the part of the story that I can never get. “The woman who is not a woman.”

“Yeah. She’s a computer program, but I get that’s hard for you to grasp considering you worship garbage.” I don’t know that word, _garbage_ , but you seem to reconsider your sentence because you add “No offense. Obviously.”

It’s not important. “Tell me more about this... computer program that ended the world.” This is the worst part. The world has clearly not ended. You don’t seem to understand that.

I’m looking through my instruments again. You’re speaking quicker now, afraid because you only have the same story of lies to tell over and over again, and I’m still not buying it. “I don’t know anything about it. On the Ark they just told us it was countries, politics. Big surprise; they were wrong.”

Maybe I should swallow the sacred symbol. Maybe it will lead me to the City of Light.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me at mareap.tumblr.com!


End file.
